Forsaken
by inspired-wisdom
Summary: Could one girl possibly change everything? Could one girl open the eyes of everyone, and will she find her true parents. I sux at summaries, not at writing, please read. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
1. Home, Sweet Home

**Warnings:** There is some child abuse mentioned and described a little. I tried to tone it down. The slight violence between Amara and Dudley/Damien/Chad is as far as it's going to go for this fic. I hope it's not too bad. Rating liable to change if I get a few years (Hogwarts) into it, depends. It won't happen any time soon.

**Author's Notes:** I hope this turns out well, review please. Constructive criticism is ok (not recommended, but ok), please no flaming though. Thanks for reading.

**Home, Sweet Home**

**Chapter One**

To the ordinary person, everything about the Andrews family would seem perfectly normal. Roy Andrews and Amber Andrews seemed to be a happily married couple with two well behaved boys, Derek, sixteen, and Chad, fourteen, as well as one seemingly shy daughter, Amara. Amara was usually in no way shy, but she knew it was better not to get involved with other people for fear of Mr. Andrews's disapproval. Amara, eleven, was an adopted child, as few people ever knew unless Mr. and Mrs. Andrews said so, which they would on occasion when explaining her somewhat frightful glance at new strangers when around, explaining she was a somewhat troubled orphaned child whom they'd took in and loved as their own. Of course, whether that was actually true or not was a whole different story…

So, when Mr. and Mrs. Andrews appeared on the corner of Privet Drive in their blue rental car, no one assumed anything suspicious was going on – just an average American family moving to Britain to raise their children and Mr. Andrews coming to start his new job. As they exited the car, Amara looked at their new home on 5 Privet Drive. She knew that while everything looked different – it was all in actual, exactly the same. Nothing was going to change in her life. Or, so she thought. Amara held her book bag with all her possessions in one hand and with the other shut the door.

As she started walking up the sidewalk to the house, she felt a familiar shove in the back and she was falling, she shut her eyes as her face met concrete, trying to put her hands out to protect her from some injury in the fall. It didn't help much as she felt the pain above her right eye, and she lifted herself up a little and rubbed the place that would undoubtedly be bruised and blue in a few moments.

"Sorry, didn't see you there. Perhaps you should move faster," said Chad and smiled snidely, his dark blond hair falling over his eyes.

Amara frowned, as she often did, before taking on the blank almost hopeless look she reserved for being around the 'family'. She started to collect what little things she had that had been knocked out of her back pack and she moved to stand up, but then Derek came up the walk and knocked her the rest of the way down, spilling all her things out again, and making her bruise her knee. She looked up at him as he stopped and made an ungrateful, even hateful face at him as only she dared. He smirked in reply.

"Nope, I'm not sorry, I quite did that on purpose, and I'd wipe that look off your face if I were you before someone else does it for you," he said and turned around, continuing on toward the house. She narrowed her eyes at his back before picking up all her things again.

"Oh for heaven's sake. You're absolutely good for nothing! Why don't you stay out of everyone's way and just stay down there on the curb until we unpack," said Amber as she walked by toward the house.

"That's a good suggestion," said Roy, who then leaned down and roughly dragged her up by her collar and her stuff in the other, dragged her toward the curb of the sidewalk and dropped her roughly on the ground. "Stay there, and don't move a muscle, until all the unpacking is done or you'll sincerely regret it."

He then walked up to the house. She sat there looked depressed and bored staring at the cracks in the street, counting them, and then taking notice of the ants, watching as they went on their way, not aware that about a billion other things could kill them without even noticing. Helpless to the world around them.

_Kind of like me,_ Amara thought. She watched one ant that had gotten caught under a tiny pebble. Soon other ants arrived to lift the pebble off the ant and right him on his way. Amara sighed, _At least they have each other, I have no one._

As she was staring at the street, watching the ants intently, she noticed the sounds of cars going up and down the road, and she saw the truck as it came. Some movers followed after. One smiled and waved at her, but when she didn't move and only acknowledged him with a sad expression, he gave her an odd look, raised his eyebrows, and continued on his work as Roy came to join. Amber, who had come to supervise, was trying to tell everyone where she wanted things, when, in truth, they all ended up wherever Roy wished them to go.

Truthfully, Amara wasn't all too upset that she wasn't allowed to move. Having her stay there until everything was moved allowed her to avoid having to do all the horrible chores she had had to do the last time they moved somewhere. It wasn't fun to sit in one place, and she did feel awkward as some of the neighbors would stare occasionally, but at least she didn't have to worry about doing something she was going to absolutely dread.

After a few hours Amber and Roy finished taking things inside and putting everything in the correct room, Roy came over and gently kicked her back before saying harshly, "Come on, up."

She knew why she had not gotten kicked harder – there were too many people around. Indeed, it would be much more difficult for him to exert any extreme force on her outside here, where everyone could see all down the street what he was doing, compared to their old house that was a little ways out of the city and fairly private. She jumped up instantly and grabbed her stuff.

Once inside he began ranting at the movers' incompetence and the nosy neighbors at 7 Privet Drive – next door. This was not a good sign. No one was allowed to be ok or comfortable while Mr. Andrews was angry – no one, especially not Amara. Of course – everyone would have to hear him rant, then hear his drunken rave, and then listen as he broke things in a drunken madness, but not everyone got whatever was left. In fact – Amara had never seen him really go at anyone in the house other than by means of verbal abuse, and that usually only toward Amber (probably because, other than Amara, she was the only one that had to be around him when he was in such a state).

He dragged her by the arm toward a door, and downstairs toward the basement. Amara began to shiver and stumble in the dark trying to keep from falling down the stairs. Tripping and falling into Mr. Andrews was not something she ever wanted to do – especially when there was the risk of stairs. She doubted whether he would fall – even if he _were_ drunk, for he was exceptionally strong and powerful for someone in a simple business profession, and knowledgeable about many methods of self defense and offense (especially offense), and he was an unlikely candidate to miss his balance unless extremely drunk and after releasing all his anger.

When they got to the bottom he put his face close to hers and pulled at her slightly curly brown hair. "Now. Don't you make a word, a sound, or even the slightest noise, or I'll come down here and you'll regret it. No question about it. None. No moving, don't even _breathe_ loudly, got it?" he said menacingly. She nodded, her eyes wide. He slapped her.

"Don't give me that look. Now – I need some time to myself. I'll be upstairs, don't expect I won't be able to hear you though, got it?" he said.

She nodded. He pulled her toward a plain white door that was seemingly a closet and Amara wondered why a basement would need a closet. He opened the door, threw her in it, as she stumbled, falling to her knees, and trying not to make a sound. He slammed it behind her, almost hitting her feet, and she could hear the door lock.

She looked around at her new home. There was a light at the top with a chain – but it had obviously been broken, probably for some time. Even in the dark, however, it was obviously a dreary surrounding. The walls were cracked and it was even more cold in that closet – which was concrete like the rest of the basement – then it was outside the closet, a curious thing. There were tons of spider webs, and Amara silently was thankful she'd recently gotten over her crippling fear of spiders. It was incredibly small – though, Amara thought, large for a closet. There was some things growing in the cracks in the floor, walls, and ceilings, that Amara didn't even want to speculate about.

She noticed a cot on the floor. It was small, even for her, who was a bit tall for her age, and a bit on the skinny side. It was very close to the floor and there was no sort of mattress on it. She sighed and went to sit down. It tipped in one direction as Amara noticed one of the legs was shorter than the rest and she knew – if she could find sleep, that it would be like sleeping in a ship's gallows at sea. She put her stuff down and shivered as the cold of the bars went right through her clothes onto her skin. She took off the necklace that was carefully hidden under her shirt and put it in her bag.

The necklace seemed fairly plain. It was on a black string which Amara tried to keep nice. It was what appeared to be just a perfectly round crystal of some sort that was about an inch in diameter, fastened to the string by some gold bars. She kept it close to her, even slept with it when she felt it safe, unless she feared there was some way to get it broken, and then she would take it off, like she did now. It was given to her at birth, and Amara had been surprised Roy Andrews had explained this to her, and let her have the necklace at all.

On her fifth birthday he had actually given her something, and confused, she'd asked what it was. He told her to read the note he'd taped on the box. It was from the adoption agency, saying that her parents had wished she kept it, and was signed by someone, and had an address at the name of the adoption agency at the bottom.

At first she had thought it was a trick. A way to make her feel perhaps more lonely, something he could use to toy with her, to threaten her with. She had been suspicious that he had bought it himself, for even if it were real, why would he give it back to her? So she had called the woman who had signed it, one time when she was at a pay phone at a gas station, and they had confirmed that it was authentic.

She then laid down, resting her head on her bag, realizing some of the bars were broken and rigid, creating a painful sensation.

As she lay there she realized that she could hear nearly everything that was going on upstairs through a vent in the ceiling. She could hear as he ranted on and on, getting drunker as the night wore longer. She could hear as he got angrier, and angrier, and she knew it would be any second before she would hear his feet on the steps. Before the door would slam open…

Silence. She realized she couldn't hear Roy, or Amber, or anyone. Confused, she dared not move, but soon she lost her balance on the bed as it tilted sideways and scraped the floor. Her heart beat faster as the noise seemed to be like a bomb in the silence.

SLAM. The door was open. Her heart raced, she tried to stand, but tripped over the crooked bars and started to fall, only to be caught by Roy before being slung across the basement into the wall. Her head pounded as things started to happen all too quickly.

The morning would find her unconscious body upstairs.


	2. Neighborhood Greetings

**Author's Notes:** I'm having a rough time with ideas and inspiration right now (not when I wrote this chapter). Any fan fic's suggested to read or ideas to write for this character/other stories would be great. Also names for some character's in my other fics…Anyway, enjoy, read and review, please.

**Neighborhood Greetings**

**Chapter Two**

She was standing in the dark, a figure placed before her. She couldn't make him out that well, the picture was wobbly, as though the camera man was drunk. Amara knew the figure anywhere though. Roy. "Father". Sir.

She vaguely realized she was crying, and that the moving picture was due to her own wobbling feet and dizziness. "On your knees."

The fear that was associated with the man came, Amara obeyed, still crying and breathing deeply (but breathing none the less). "Beg for forgiveness."

Amara didn't think she could do that. She couldn't be degraded like that, not this far. She was confused and dizzy in her reality, not remembering how she got to this situation. Fear welled inside her, and she realized the pain in the back of her mind, and she just wanted it to end, "I'm sorry, please, please, forgive me."

"Say it," Roy said.

Afraid of the question, but finding no way out of it she had to ask, "Say what?"

She remembered a pain in her stomach. "Say you're a dirty dog."

"I'm a dirty dog."

"Nobody wants you."

"Nobody wants me."

"I am your master and you _will_ obey me."

"You are my master. I will obey you."

"My parents were nothing, and my blood is nothing more than dirt, as will be my children's."

She wouldn't do it. She couldn't do it. It was stupid, she knew, to defend people at the risk of her own life that hadn't even cared enough to keep her, people she didn't even know. But she wouldn't say it, would never say it. "No."

"WHAT!"

"No!" she cried, defeated as she realized he was hitting her, and blackness crowded her vision.

Amara awoke from her nightmare incredibly relieved to be released. As she woke up more, she realized that it hadn't been a dream, but a glimpse of the nightmare of the night before.

The pain she found herself waking to was nearly unbearable (except for the fact that she had to bear it). She couldn't move. Then she realized, even if she had the strength to move, she was tied to the cot. She groaned, and turned her head to stare at the wall.

Every muscle ached and her eyes seemed to burn. But her eyes weren't the only things that burned, her back and stomach were incredible searing pain, and her arm seemed to tingle and almost go numb at times. She would have cried again, if she still weren't too tired to do anything at all.

Fear flooded her, as it always did, probably always would. That was the one thing Mr. Andrews was always good at – inspiring fear in her. It didn't matter whether they were at a fairly calm place in public surrounded by people, or just before a storm, like she had been in the closet last night, during, or even after everything happened – she was always afraid. Sometimes it seemed like she couldn't live with all the fear she felt all the time.

She felt afraid because she didn't understand what had happened. Couldn't even bring herself to believe it after all these years. Couldn't believe she were as helpless as she really was. How could she live through this everyday, how could he hate her so much? It was as though she were still in shock at the whole affair, even though she'd been living with them since she was three.

She heard the door open and she seemed to tense up, and couldn't seem to move her head to see who it was. As they walked up beside her she realized it was Amber. She had a tub of steaming hot water which she set down, and then she went back to get what Amara knew was the tub full of wound cleaning supplies, which included bandages.

She then untied Amara, and for an instant Amara had an unbelievable urge to run, but she wouldn't. Even if she escaped, which she certainly wouldn't, she had no where to go. She had no idea of who to even contact.

"Sit up and face the wall," instructed Amber.

Of all the things Amber, Roy, Chad, and Derek did to her, they always made sure it could be covered up. They would not allow her to die. She couldn't, it would arose too many questions, even if there was no one to point the finger. Not dying meant having to have a little self-restraint, and even if they didn't, having to make sure that whatever they did do did not require a trip to the hospital, doctor, or anyone else that had to see the wounds. That meant they had to stop infection, and try to heal everything as fast as they could. It also meant long-sleeves and often pants for Amara.

"Take off your shirt," said Amber.

Amara didn't want to, but she knew it was going to come off one way or another, took both her shirt and bra off. Amber took them and Amara knew they had to be trashed. There were ripped beyond repair, and covered in blood. The next thing she felt was the hot rag over her bag, searing hot, hotter than it needn't have been. She made a noise and moved slightly, and she could almost feel Amber roll her eyes.

"Don't be such a baby," she said and scrubbed with the hot water harder than she had before.

After several minutes of cleaning her back, Amber put several things to rid and prevent infection in large wounds, all of which made the searing wounds' pain increase. She then told Amara to turn around, who covered her chest with her arms, still modest despite the fact that as far as the Andrews were concerned, she had no rights. Amber cleaned the cut on her stomach, which scared Amara, though she knew she'd seen worse, put anti-infection cream and such on it, then grabbed her right arm roughly, and began to treat the burn.

"It's not so bad, second degree," said Amber.

Amara knew little about burns, but she knew third degree was the worst, and so second didn't seem so great to her. Amber put a cool cloth on her arm and after a few minutes, took it off, sprayed it with cool water – which made it feel better, than started to put the appropriate things on it (Amber used to be a nurse before Derek and Chad were born). After that she wrapped Amara's entire back and chest area with cloth, which wasn't all to comfortable, though the pain had went down considerably.

"Take a shower and put on some clean clothes, we're supposed to meet the neighbors today," said Amber with the same tone she reserved for Amara, one of utter disgust and snide superiority.

She then left, leaving the door open. Amara reached down and picked out a pair of clothes from her bag that were 'nice' clothes, those only permitted for special occasions, that weren't too big, too small, tattered, worn, or in other disrepair. She then took an old, too tight shirt and put it on, and walked up the basement stairs.

After starting the laundry for the whole family, which included her outfit, she went to take a shower. Washing herself she was forced to use a plastic wrap reserved for her for just the occasion – so the bandages wouldn't get wet. Then she went downstairs and put all the clothes in the dryer.

After getting dressed she headed into the kitchen where she had been told to make snacks for all the guests. However, she saw Derek and Chad in the kitchen already with made snacks.

"You're in trouble," said Derek, smiling slyly.

"Why?" Amara dared to ask.

"You took too long on your lazy butt, and mom had to make the food herself," answered Derek.

They began to back her toward the kitchen wall – the one that had the door that led to the basement (the same place the events of the previous night had taken place). Amara's heart began to beat a little faster and Derek and Chad's smiles grew bigger. Amara finally gave in, and turned to run for the front door, but was immediately caught by the hair by who she soon found out was Chad. He held her arms from behind, and pushed her body in toward his so that she could barely move. Derek began to punch her in the stomach and occasionally in the face.

Her stomach seemed to go up in flame as he repeatedly hit the cut. It was unbearable, but she didn't want to cry, not in front of them. She held her breath and bit her lip, trying to keep the tears inside. Suddenly Derek moved aside and Chad violently pushed her down toward the ground. Holding herself up with her arms, Chad stepped on her back, forcing the pulsing pain that she had become accustomed to, to flare into an unbearable pulsing, until it was the only thing she could focus on. They began to punch her back, step on her, kick her. It wasn't as hard as Roy would hurt her, and not even that bad compared to normal, but the pain from the wounds the night before were unbearable, and no amount of clothing or wrapping would prevent that. She found herself going in and out of conciseness as she found it harder and harder to fight against them, to try to stand. Soon she gave up all together.

"What are you doing!" said a shrill voice that seemed far away as Amara began to pass out again. "We can't have her opening up again, I just dressed those wounds. Boys, please," she said, her voice becoming more clear and sensible (Amara had never heard her yell at the boys as she had just then), "use some common sense. We have neighbors arriving any second, do you want to make them suspicious? What if they were to walk in on you? Do you want them to think we're unfit parents?"

"No," said Chad and Derek simultaneously, with the right amount of fake guilt.

"Good, that's my boys. Now, go get one of the dress outfits, and bring it here. She'll have to change her shirt," said Amber.

"Yes mam," said Chad, and Amara, gaining more conciseness, heard them both walk off.

"Now girl, get up," Amber said. Amara tried to stand, but she didn't seem to have the strength. "Come on, up!"

Amara slowly began to struggle to her knees, but Amber began to become impatient, and grabbed the back of her shirt and forced her up. She grabbed her wrist, just below the burn, and dragged her upstairs. On the way to their bathroom, Derek met her with a new shirt that was only reserved for special occasions. It wasn't especially fancy or great looking, just new, and well fitted. It was a red shirt that had a v-shaped neck, made of a nice summery material (it would have to be since it was long sleeves). He also had a jean black skirt that went just above the knee.

Amara looked at the outfit in envy. Sometimes she forgot how good it felt to be normal. She missed the times where no one was allowed to hit her (company) and she could dress normally. She missed not having to be looked at because of her large boyish shirts (grown out ones of Derek's and Chad's), or older looking baggy clothes with stains on them (Amber's). She missed being able to have jeans that fit. She hated having to where the handy-me-downs, and the 'nice' clothes she'd grown out of, so they were too tight. She hated being beaten up by all the bullies, and laughed at by all the other girls. She hated how some of the teacher's gave her sad, worried looks, or how they seemed to put their noses up at her. She hated not having any friends. She hated being beaten to a bloody pulp.

"Thank you, Derek, now go get ready for the neighbors, and try to stay out of trouble," said Amber, in a motherly sort of way that she would never use towards Amara.

"Ok, mom," said the sixteen year old boy, acting like mother's perfect angel.

She turned her head to Amara, grabbing her by the arm to take her into the bathroom. Derek smirked at Amara and mouthed 'you wait'. Amara gave him a look back, before being pulled into the bathroom completely by Amber, who then shut the door.

"Take off your shirt," Amber ordered again, for the second time that day.

Taking off the slightly worn, and slightly large blue shirt, she handed it to Amber, who threw it in the dirty hamper. She looked Amara's front and back over, before nodding, "No wounds seemed to have opened back up. Good, it would be just like you to go and ruin everything, wouldn't it? Get dressed and be downstairs in two minutes, or you'll pay for it tonight."

Leaving the bathroom in a flurry, Amber left the door open, and Chad was sitting outside, smirking. Her heart beating faster in sudden fright and embarrassment, Amara said, "Oh my god, Chad, get away!" She then slammed the door, and leaned against it.

The bandages covered everything, but it was the idea that counted. She turned around and locked the door. She then put on the shirt, almost wishing that she didn't have the bandages, so she might be able to fill it out more – it wasn't often she got to see herself properly – without the baggy clothes, the bruises, the cuts, the burns. She then took off the too small jeans, and put on the perfectly fitting skirt, and almost sighed. She brushed her hair, and used some of Amber's foundation that she never used for it was there just for Amara, so she could cover things up properly, to cover up the bruise above her eye.

She carefully put the foundation back, and quickly headed out the door, and down the stairs. She was there just in time for the first guests arrival. Soon the house was full of people, and Amara was becoming ever weary of Derek and Chad who were talking occasionally to adults or other teenagers, while eyeing Amara and smiling slyly when they thought no one was looking. She knew they were waiting for just the right moment to slowly back her off into some room upstairs so that they could get back at her for getting them in trouble with Amber.

Of course, no one else seemed to notice this. About three hours after the guests had begun to arrive, Chad and Derek finally got their chance. Instead of backing her upstairs, however, they were trying to make her go outside. She was slowly being backed out the front door, but then the door bell rang once again, and Amara almost sighed in relief as she was politely asked to get the door by Amber from across the room (of course this was only for the public eye, not out of actual kindness).

She opened the door to a very large, neck-less man, and a tall, giraffe looking woman. "Hello, and welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Petunia Dursley, and this is my husband, Vernon Dursley, we live across the street at 4 Privet Drive," said the woman.

The man held out his hand, and Amara shook it acting shy, like she normally did around strangers, finding herself suddenly close up. "Thanks," she said, as the woman reached out her hand.

Amara went to shake her hand as well, and the woman looked down on her saying, "Pleased to meet you," in a way that really didn't sound as though she were pleased, and made it seem as though it really were the opposite. The woman had an air that she was obviously trying to promote, the air that she was better than everyone else, as though she had some sort of false authority. "I quite enjoyed your garden. How did you plant it so quickly?"

Truthfully, when visiting the Britain from a hotel, as they fixed all of their major moving things, they had forced Amara to work long hours on pre-planting their garden. "We planted them here before moving in, so they would grow big before we got here. It was mostly Am…er…mom," said Amara. Amara was always required to call Amber mom to anyone outside the family. It only seemed proper, since she was actually their daughter as far as all things were concerned.

"How…efficient," she said.

"Welcome, please come in," Amara said, remembering her manners, especially as she could almost feel Amber's eyes studying her from across the room, watching for mistakes. The man and woman came, the woman and then the man, and moved slightly to the side to reveal an incredibly large boy who was about an inch or two taller than Amara, but much, much larger. She wondered how she had not noticed him, even hidden behind his enormous father. Amara scolded herself for thinking that way.

"This is our son Dudley," Petunia said.

"Hello," Amara said quietly.

Dudley didn't say anything until he was nudged by Mr. Dursley, "Pleased to meet you." He looked her up and down, as though evaluating her.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley moved further into the crowd and started making small talk with the neighbors, leaving Dudley and Amara alone. As Dudley studied her she took the time to look at him. He was wearing very neat clothes, one step under a tux, or so Amara figured. His brown hair was slicked back, and the result was that he looked like a young Mr. Dursley minus a mustache. Amara figured he was probably thirteen or so, due to his size. Amara was, despite her malnutrition, always tall for her age, so she assumed she guessed appropriately.

"How old are you?" Dudley asked.

"Eleven, I'll be twelve in October," Amara said, finding it easier to talk without her family or his around, though she was still quiet.

"My birthday was in June. I got thirty nine presents for my birthday," he said. It was sort of like a game, but Amara just nodded. When she didn't reply verbally, he continued, "How many did you get last year for your birthday?"

"I don't remember," she said. Zero, like every year, she thought. She wondered if a beating count, if so, she was well into the negatives.

"Where do you go to school?" she asked, changing the subject.

"The local one here, Thompson Elementary. The high school is Stonewall's, but I will be going to a boarding school…" Dudley said, and continued on like that for awhile.

Amara wasn't really paying attention, because she was busy wondering where Chad and Damien had gone off to. It was always a good idea to have your eyes on them. She couldn't seem to find them anywhere, but they had to be there. They weren't allowed to leave, they had instructions to stay and mingle with the guests, and there was no way Amber's 'perfect' boys would disobey when she was so stressed.

"Well?" he asked.

"Sorry, I didn't hear the question," Amara said.

Dudley looked hard at her, angry. He had figured that she hadn't been listening just seconds before. Dudley wasn't smart, but Amara was too distracted to have fooled him today.

"Weren't you listening?" he asked, his face getting red.

Amara looked at Dudley, trying to evaluate the situation. She didn't know much about him, but it was now obvious that he was used to getting his way. Weighing at least two hundred pounds, Amara wasn't willing to bet he wouldn't pass the line between bullying someone to get his way, especially the way his fists were clenched.

_Fight or flight,_ Amara thought. Well, if she fought here, or caused a scene, well…she knew what would happen later. Even if the situation was unavoidable, it was best to take this somewhere else, even though she wasn't supposed to leave. She figured she was in for it either way if Dudley was going to try to fight her.

"Sorry," she said.

"Sorry isn't good enough," he said, his voice quiet. He suddenly jerked his head; the sudden movement caused Amara to step back. She looked in the same direction; he was looking at his mother and father who were currently talking to Amber and Roy.

He grabbed her arm slowly and led her toward the door. She didn't fight back, if she did that could mean disaster. He pulled her outside and across the street to his house, where the bushes would hide them from view of their house.

"Look, I said I was sorry," Amara said a little louder than she normally would.

"Yeah, well, I say you need to be taught a lesson," Dudley said.

"That was the same thing your teacher probably told you when you failed repeatedly," Amara shot out before realizing it. She would have slapped her hand over her mouth except that Dudley beat her to it. Blood dripped from her busted lip.

"Dudley, please don't do this," she said, knowing what awaited at home if she ruined her clothes and entered the house looking beaten up.

He smiled and said, "You should have thought about this before you opened your big mouth."

He began to beat her up. Terror welled up inside her, she fell to the ground, leaning on the brush. As he continued she swung her midsection down, then instantly swung up her legs to kick Dudley in the face, and stumbled to her feet before taking off behind him, towards the Dursley's backyard leaving a stunned Dudley.

Amara searched madly for somewhere to hide, but didn't find anything. She saw the back door and ran for it, twisting the knob and the fleeing inside the house. She heard an angry roar and ducked below the window door.

"I'll find you, you…you, moron!"

Amara would have rolled her eyes if the adrenalin and fear weren't still keeping her body shaking. She'd ruined everything. If Dudley went back over to her house, everyone would know, if he came in, he'd spot her. She prayed there would be a third option. She heard him slowly turn the knob and she sprinted off through the kitchen, head still ducked.

She heard his slow footsteps from the hall. Frantically looking for a hiding place, she saw a closet. She tried the door knob, but it was locked. She rattled it quietly, whispering, "Oh please, come on." She wished it were just temporarily jammed. She could have cried out when it opened, and she jumped in quietly and then shut the door as slowly and quietly as she could.

She held her breath as she heard him approach, she then heard his steps above her on the stairs.

A voice then nearly made her jump out of her skin, "Hello."


	3. Midnight Dreams

**Disclaimer: **I forgot to put this in before, so I put it in the title, but I don't own Harry Potter, if I did, well, I'd be rich, sadly, I am not.

**Author's Notes: **I am so sorry about the delay in updating, I really had planned to finish this chapter which I actually had half over before I put the story up, but I ended up in the hospital for two weeks, and I felt so bad. Thank you so much for your reviews, I'm so glad you're eager to read more. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Midnight Dreams**

**Chapter Three**

She twirled around, tripping over her own feet, and started to fall but a hand reached out and grabbed hers, keeping her from banging her head into the door.

She looked down at the face of the hand, and the said, "Thanks."

"Not to be rude or anything, but what are you doing here, and who are you?"

"Oh, sorry," Amara said in a hushed voice, not wanting Dudley to hear their voices and get suspicious. "My name's Amara, we just moved here across the street. Some pig head named Dudley chased me over here, and I figured hiding would be a great option."

The boy with raven black hair and startling green eyes nodded, looking at a spot above her right eye. Amara reached for it, any trace of the cover up gone on her hand. Dudley must have gotten his hand covered in it, it still not being completely dry, and it was now on his pudgy fist. She doubted he noticed, and prayed he didn't.

"Um…what's your name?" she asked after the short silence.

"Harry, Harry Potter," he replied. He pushed his taped glasses back up his nose when the almost escaped.

It was a cramped space, so Harry suggested they both sit down on his bed. Or, Amara figured it was his bed. "You live here?" she asked, no sign of shock or disgust in her voice.

"Yeah, Dudley's my cousin. Aunt Petunia is my mom's sister," he replied.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your parents?"

"They died. In a car crash, I was one," he said.

"Sorry," Amara said. "I never knew my parents either." She paused stopped. "I'm adopted," she explained.

"Oh," Harry said. "Won't your…parents notice your missing from the party?"

"Probably," Amara said, worry in her voice. She tried to push down the visions of Roy's angry face flooding her mind. "But I can't go back looking like this."

Her clothes were ruined, grass and dirt on them, and her bruise now clearly visible. Her stomach turned. He seemed to understand as he nodded.

"Why didn't you come to the party?" Amara asked. Then she mentally hit herself, the boy lived in a closet. Then again, so would she, and her parents would never leave her behind. After all, it would give the appearance that they were bad parents.

"They figured I'd find a way to ruin it," Harry said.

"Why?" Amara asked.

"They said my 'freakish ways' might make it look like they weren't the best neighbors," Harry said in a mocking way. "What did you do to anger Dudley? Aunt Petunia gave him a strict talking to, about making the 'right' impression."

"I didn't listen when he went rambling on about his school, Smellings, that's a stupid name," Amara said.

Harry laughed and Amara asked why. "It's Smeltings. I'm sure I'd like to see Uncle Vernon's face if you called it that to him, it was his school, too."

She laughed as Harry went into an impression of the exact way he'd look, mocking him, too. They heard steps above them, and it was instantly silent again. They heard Dudley stomp out the door and they allowed themselves to breath again.

"Harry, do you know if your aunt has anything I can cover this up with that she wouldn't miss?" Amara asked, pointing to her bruise.

Harry nodded, "There's a bathroom upstairs with a bunch of her stuff. She doesn't use half of it."

Harry got up and opened the door and Amara followed. "Let's hope they don't come home now, they'd totally blow their coup if they saw me out and about when I'm grounded. It's strange actually, I would have sworn they'd locked the cupboard."

He went upstairs and Amara followed. She quickly found what she was looking for, luckily she hadn't had much sun yet because of the move, and the shade was about right. When she was done it was as good as invisible. She sighed and carefully put everything back they had found it, trying to ensure that there were no signs of her ever being there. She then looked herself over in the mirror, trying to get off the grass and dirt marks, pulling at her clothes and dampening them with water, then attempting to fix her hair.

"There," she said, finishing, having even cleaned up all traces of the grass and dirt. Her appearance wasn't too big a difference from what it had been before the Dudley incident, but she knew Amber would notice. Hopefully her punishment wouldn't be as severe, especially after the previous night.

"You're really good at that. The last time I saw Aunt Petunia use it, it looked as though she'd went to a fake tanning place," Harry said.

Amara shrugged casually, not really wanting to get into it. "Yes, well, I have to keep everyone from seeing what lies underneath," she said mysteriously.

They began exiting the bathroom, and Harry joked, "Oh, and what hideous creature would that be?" His smile resembled a smirk.

Amara stood up straight and then puffed out her stomach and blew air into her cheeks to make them larger then spoke in a mock voice that sounded something like a fish if it could talk, "It is I, Vernon Dursley. Harry, mow the yard. No, do not mow the yard. I do not want your freak ways ruining a perfectly good mower. Here, take these scissors, no, that's no good. You'll end up doing something horribly wrong like always boy, I don't want my Petunia's garden destroyed. Here, take this wooden spoon, and…"

Harry was laughing extremely hard, pulling on her shoulder and she broke into a grin and started laughing, too. They went down the stairs, still laughing. Harry nor Amara could ever remembering laughing _with_ someone. Most of their memories of laughter belonged to times when they were being utterly humiliated.

When they reached the bottom they were still laughing, but eventually pulled themselves together and grinned broadly at each other. Then Amara realized she had to leave, and that Harry couldn't come as well, or she would have invited him.

"Hey I'll see you around," Amara said.

"If I ever get ungrounded and finished with my chores," Harry said.

"Same here," Amara said. "It's a date then."

Harry smiled, "Well, I should be getting back to my cupboard. And you ought to be getting back to your house."

"Yes, back to Dudley," Amara rolled her eyes. "Fantastic!" she said with great false enthusiasm.

He smiled and said bye before walking back to his closet and Amara sighed and opened the door, fear once again returning. She'd have to see him more often, she convinced herself. She realized she hadn't been afraid for the first time in…well, she couldn't remember. Maybe, she dared to hope, they could even become friends.

She had a big smile on as she crossed the street and walked up to the house. Grabbing the doorknob, the memory of her first hours in the house came back to her, and fear welled up again, her smile faded.

Reentering the party she tried to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. She slipped to the a corner and conversed with an odd looking woman who smelled like some sort of pet feed, which she later found out was cats with all the pictures she held of them in her wallet. She was strange, to be sure, but Amara found herself relaxed to have a conversation with someone who didn't have a hidden motive or force her to speak when she had nothing to say.

Amara looked around and spotted Dudley in new clothes, and he was conversing with Damien and Chad. That wasn't a good sign for her. The last thing she needed was a new gang to beat up on her. She knew there'd be a few kids at school, and then Damien and Chad, but the last thing she needed was three groups. A school gang, a 'brother' gang, and a neighborhood patrol all out for her. Dudley was laughing and Chad was smirking her. Damien noticed her glance and smiled slyly at her, and so she turned her attention back to the odd woman, whom she'd already forgotten the name of. In Amara's head, she was simply the 'cat lady'.

Slowly the party filtered out. Amara was not pleased when the remaining guests were only the Dursleys. It seemed that while Amber and Petunia didn't seem to be fond of each other, they were becoming friends of sorts, and they were obviously always going to be competing with each other. It was a difficult relationship at best.

Amber smiled, it looked so easy, not even forced, Amara was already beginning to dread that smile. She beckoned her over. Cautiously, Amara came.

When she was there Amber motioned for her to sit on a bar seat placed on the counter dividing the kitchen from the large living room. Oddly enough, the dining room was down the hall a little. Amara climbed up and looked at Petunia.

"I believe you owe Mrs. Dursley an apology for upsetting her son when all he wanted to do was play a harmless game of tag," said Amber with a motherly punishing voice. Amara could hear the hidden sneer and almost taste the bitter hate she was holding back. Amara couldn't fathom whatever it was that caused it all those years ago.

"Yes, Mrs. Dursley, I'm sorry. I must have misinterpreted things a little," Amara said quietly. She had no idea of what the story had been told as, but she figured that was probably a suitable thing to say.

"Just try not to be so hostile next time," Petunia said.

"Sorry," Amara replied.

"Now go upstairs to your room Amara, your father and I will be up to talk to you later," Amber said. Her smile was gone still, but the sweet, motherly tone was back.

Amara nodded. Fear returned and she made her way upstairs and turned down the hall to her right and stared out a window. She could see Harry's house from here. No, she told herself, it was the Dursley's house, Harry was just forced to live in it. Just like this was Roy's house, and she was to live in it as his human target practice.

She looked down the row of houses and spotted the immaculate yards and pompous gardens, all trying to outdo the other. Amara never dreamed there was a place like this, it was as though it were a prison of well-to-do people, leading ordinary lives, all trying, at the same time, to some outdo each other. That's life, she reminded herself.

Eventually the sky darkened and then stars appeared. As a child Amara had spent whatever time she didn't spend with Roy or unconscious she had spent at night staring at the stars. She felt so hopeful and yet so alone when she looked at them, and it was a miracle that she had not become bitter from the same wish that remained ungranted.

Amara remembered a teacher, who actually seemed to like Amara for a change, that if you were going through a really down time all you'd have to do was think of something good in your life, and good times would come from it. Of course, Amara thought it was corny and impossible, because she'd never really had any good things to wish on or picture, but she'd liked the elderly teacher anyway. Another blow to her story was she died unmarried, dreaming of having a family her entire life, and only ten people went to her funeral.

Amara had managed to sneak out the day of her teacher's showing. She had been considerably sad, and she knew she'd pay for it when she went home, but she had to see her teacher one last time. She remembered being bitter and angry as well, wondering why she'd ever trusted her, when she'd left her in the end anyway. She'd gotten a ride with some of the teachers, who weren't so fond of her, to her funeral. Not a single family member showed up.

She remembered looking down on her feet except when they had arrived at the door. She had looked at the little black sign with the removable white letters, to prove that it was real. She remembered reading Melissa Daniels, Showing. It wasn't until that moment did it really seem real to her. That she could accept the fact that the woman she'd known for three short weeks, the person who gave her candy, the only person who spoke kindly to her, had died. She felt tears surface, but pushed her emotions down deep inside, and rubbed her eyes, trying to appear as if the sun were in her eye.

Amara wasn't sure how comfortable she was with the open coffin. Fear came to her, a fear unlike any she had experience before. A horrible shocking fear that would have made Roy proud to inspire. The woman was _dead_. And something about that scared Amara, she was gone, forever, taken away. She had spoke to this woman a few days ago, alive, happy. Now everything was gone, ruined, in an instant, and she had to look at the _body._ The body of someone who she had actually liked. She'd see her cold, lifeless features, her stiff body, her formal clothing, her closed eyes, her pale white skin. Amara felt herself instinctively back towards the door, her instincts about ready to make her bolt.

She turned, and gave a sharp yelp as she ran into a tall serious looking man. Amara didn't recognize him. She covered her mouth with her hand and a slap that stung a bit as the her teachers glared. The man smiled at her, it wasn't really happy smile though, but a serious, formal one.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Smith, I work here. Did you want to see Ms. Daniels?" he asked her politely, though a little slow as though talking to a toddler, or other small child.

The nine year old girl shook her head quickly, and her eyes darted around him to the exit. "Are you afraid?"

Amara looked up into his eyes, she wouldn't admit her fear, but he smiled again, and she was too afraid to say anything. "I understand, death can be frightening. It's natural though, and I believe Ms. Daniels would have liked to have a goodbye, don't you?"

Afraid and hopeless, knowing what would come soon, she shrugged. She moved as though to walk around him, but he grabbed her lightly by her shoulder, and led her down the aisle past all the empty seats that should have held Ms. Daniels family, her husband, her children. But she had no one, Amara thought bitterly, cursing life itself. No one.

Reaching the coffin a she felt as though someone had thrown her body into ice water, and her very core was an icicle molded from the hands of Winter himself. She tensed, and the man smiled down at her, but she was too afraid to acknowledge it, staring at the coffin in horror.

_She can't be dead! She can't! I can't see her body! It's wrong! She's dead!_ The thoughts frantically shouted at her. She had no choice but to ignore them as she was led to the coffin. She then realized that she had her eyes shut the last of the way, and that they had stopped.

"It's not so bad," the man's voice said as though proving a point. He must not have realized she had her eyes shut, she realized.

Slowly she opened an eye. She gasped, and her eyes both opened. There was no doubt about it, Ms. Daniels was dead. Her body didn't move, a breath didn't escape her lips, her chest didn't rise, her skin was pale, but that was not what surprised Amara. After all, she knew that was what she would see. What surprised her was that she didn't look like a solemn soldier, mouth and eyes shut and set, just as she thought she would. Her mouth…it was curved in a natural smile. She had died smiling.

_How?_ Amara thought. They wouldn't have changed her, would they? No. But, why, why would she have died with a smile on her face when she had never got what she had wanted out of life? Why?

To that day Amara still pondered what had made her smile, what secret Ms. Daniels seemed to have, that had allowed her to die a happy woman, when all her dreams had never come true. That's why Amara still remembered those words, even though Ms. Daniels had only been in a small portion of her life. The woman had some secret knowledge that must have been wise, for despite everything, she had died…content.

Steps on the stairs forced Amara out of her day dream. She realized the night had gotten a good deal darker, and that morning would only a few hours away. Amara felt her heart race and all she wanted to do was use up the adrenalin pumping through her veins by running far and fast, but she had no escape, and if she had, she had no where to turn to.

Amara could easily make out the shapes of her 'parents' in the darkness, her eyes already adjusted to the darkness. Amara could even distinguish the look of absolute revulsion and fury coming from both of them. Though, truth be told, that wasn't her eyes having adjusted to the darkness, but years of practice that allowed her to see that. Even in absolute darkness, she would still be able to see their eyes glowing like that.

Amara didn't see, however, Chad and Damien behind them. Confusion welled up in her. Chad and Damien had beat her on numerous occasion, sometimes (though rarely) as bad as their father, but they'd never been allowed to join in with him. Roy nor Amber would allow that. They weren't supposed to see the horrid violence that poured onto Amara almost nightly. They were just allowed to see the result. Her body trembled in fear, and instantly reacted, by taking several fearful steps backwards.

"Where do you think you're going?" Amber's voice stressed and slightly high and loud demanded.

Amara didn't know if Amber really wanted her to reply to that. She opened her mouth once, knowing there was no excuse (for there never was, no matter how true or faultless she was about it), and finding no words able to escape her mouth, and therefore quickly shut it.

"You do not walk away we are talking to you, you stupid piece of crap, what do you think you're doing?" Roy asked.

It wasn't until that point that Amara realized her few steps backwards had continued without her realization. She forced herself to stop. She could just make out Chad smirking from behind his oh-so-loving-parent. Suddenly Roy charged at her and she released a scream. She was on the floor with Roy on top of her, and she didn't even realize she was still screaming in horror of all four of them beating her after the previous night until Roy had put a hand over her mouth.

"You know what you did, you deserve punishment," he said calmly. Too calmly, Amara didn't like that one bit. His hand was muffling her screams. If only someone could hear, she thought.

"Boys go to your rooms, now," Amber said sternly and they grudgingly walked to their rooms, promising to finish what she started tomorrow.

Roy then easily (though roughly) threw Amara over his shoulder and took her struggling body downstairs. Amara was struck with horror as he opened the door to the basement. The basement was only used for serious punishment, because no one would hear Amara scream for her life.

"Please, please, no, don't!" Amara pleaded.

Roy roughly slapped her back and told her to keep her mouth shut unless spoken to. She bit her lip, a little too hard and blood droplets formed. Amara could hear Amber's footsteps behind her on the steps.

When they reached the basement she was thrown onto the cold pavement, she felt her back protest as her wounds threatened to reopen. Amber and Roy began to both kick her. They held nothing back – kicking as though their very lives depended on it. Amara whimpered but managed not to cry out as the wounds on her stomach and back ripped open and bled.

Roy picked her up and slammed her body against the wall repeatedly until she heard a sickening crack. Blood flowed profusely and matted her hair to her head. She would have screamed or cried out but there was no air in her lungs, she couldn't breathe.

She knew they were both screaming obscenities at her, that they had been since she was thrown to the floor, but it was like they were a world away, she couldn't hear anything but her irregular heart beat and her raspy desperate attempts at breathing. She felt her lungs try to fill with air, and she felt the pain when they couldn't. Tears flowed from her eyes.

_This is it, I'm dying. _Roy picked her up and began to beat her with anything he could find, but she wasn't there, she barely even felt it, it was as though she were being swept away by a cold wind.

_All you have to do was think of something good in your life, and good times would come from it,_ a voice reminded her in her head. Her oxygen deprived brain couldn't focus, horrible thoughts and memories flashed before her mind, unable to grasp onto anything. Then all of a sudden bright green eyes appeared. _Harry._


	4. Friends and Foes

**Disclaimer: **If I took over the world, I would own Harry Potter, and make tons of money. I have not managed to conquer the world, so that plan won't work, and I don't own Harry Potter or any Harry Pottery things, though I did invent Amara.

**Author's Notes:** Once again, I was too ambitious. I had thought the chapter was going to be too short, so I added an incident, which turned out to be too long, but I'm fairly satisfied with the result. Also, I won't be here for a week. Please, please, (pretty please) read and review!

**Friends and Foes**

**Chapter Four**

Waking up to darkness, Amara was dizzy and disoriented. As visions of the night before came to mind she realized she was lucky to be alive…or perhaps unlucky. She tried to lift herself up but her body felt as if it were made of lead. Her heart beat raced, hoping she wasn't permanently paralyzed. She stared at her arms determinedly and slowly she willed them to rise, but it was painful, she bit her lip, and let her arms drop. At least she knew there wasn't permanent damage.

After her first moments of life awake concluded, pain seemed to seep in from every direction. There wasn't a single part of her body that didn't scream in pain. _This is it, I'm going to die this time,_ Amara thought. She tried to shake the thought from her mind but it stuck there, and as she fell back into unconsciousness, it was the only thought she could hold.

The next few days were some of the most painful Amara had ever experienced. She was rarely awake and when she was, fear that she would never get better and was rather slowly dying alone seized her soul. She began to long for things she'd gone without more than ever. Fear that she was going to die and no one was going to know, that they'd get away with it and nobody would ever know what they did to her took hold in her. She became angry at times when she was awake enough to think. They shouldn't get away with it, away with ruining her life and then her own murder.

She longed for a friend or a parent or anyone who would just visit her and treat her nicely and listen and know how she felt, know who she was, just one person before she died, but she became bitter when thinking about it. No one would ever be there for her like that, not as long as Roy lived to make sure of that. If only he could be struck by lightening or have heart attack or some other disease, but no, he was perfectly healthy while she rotted there not even having reached puberty.

Eventually her fear and anger subsided as she realized she was getting better, and she'd live to see the sunlight again. That is, if I'm ever allowed out, she thought. Amber started visiting less, and Amara took that as a particularly good sign.

Sitting up and eating the gruel of the day (cold two day old meatloaf left overs) Amara heard footsteps on the stairs, and her lungs seemed to be suppressed as fear took her. She listened, the steps were too light to be Roy's, and her body physically relaxed and she was able to swallow the bite of the nasty meal that resided in her mouth.

Amara heard the lock click and Amber opened the door and came through, and ripped the plate from her hand. "It's time to get your lazy butt up and do your chores, no more time to wallow in your laziness down here," Amber said venomously, as though it was Amara's fault for what happened. Of course, Amara thought, they thought it was her fault she was punished, especially this time, for 'ruining' the party.

Amara sighed. She began cleaning the house, making sure to dust ever nook and cranny of anything she could reach, and carrying a chair for the places she couldn't. While dusting the ceiling in the living room she heard someone approaching quickly, and before she could turn around she was shocked to find herself falling. She landed painfully on the knocked over chair.

"You missed a spot," she heard a voice say.

She looked up to see Chad and Damien. It had been Damien whom had knocked over the chair, and Chad who had spoken she quickly estimated. She was glad for her freedom, that, for whatever reason, she was allowed out of the basement. This freedom, however, also had it's downside, other than the obvious cleaning, she was once again submitted to her normal routine.

Amara stood up, set the chair up and got back to dusting. When she was just starting to think she was safe, she felt someone grab her around the waste from behind and hold her four inches above the ground. She was swirled to face Chad who was now at face level with Amara.

"We missed you a lot sister," he said in a sweet voice.

"Why don't you come outside and play a little game with us?" Damien said.

"Please guys, please just let me finish the chores! Please just let me do this! For once, please, please, I don't want to get in trouble again…" she begged, holding down her anger.

"Awww…since you begged us so nicely slave, we'll leave you to your chores, for now," she heard Damien say. She was roughly dropped to the floor and then punched her in the stomach for good measure. She doubled over, her body still tender from the previous encounter with Roy.

They left her laughing, and she angrily began to do her chores again. She finished the dusting, did the vacuuming, finished the laundry, did the dishes, fixed lunch, did the dishes again, cleaned every room, scrubbed the toilets, trimmed the brush, watered the flowers, deweeded the garden, and mowed the lawn. She was sure by the end of it, some where around five that afternoon, that she must have lost twenty pounds to sweat.

Amara took a shower, and adorned her old baggy clothes. If it weren't for the fact that she was allowed to use a shower and wash her clothes, she'd look like she lived on the streets, rather than a nicely kept house.

After the family had eaten dinner, she began to do the dishes again. As she was putting the last dish away she heard from behind her, "Hello again, sister."

She groaned inwardly and turned to face Chad. "Want to play a game?"

"Um…not really," Amara said.

"But you promised," Damien said.

"I don't recall – " she said, but Damien had grabbed her and muffled her mouth. She struggled to find him with her arms, but he smothered them as well with his other arm. He lifted her again so that he could stand straight, leaving her feet once again dangling several inches above the floor.

"That's ok, because we do," he said.

Chad led her and Damien out the door. "How about we go the park, we've got some friends we'd like you to meet, some are your age, too."

Fear and warning signals flared again. This would be her real introduction to the neighborhood, she knew. They walked her to the park where she saw Dudley, a bird like kid, and two large cronies, the biggest only slightly smaller than Dudley. One of them held a dark haired kid's arms behind his back, and Dudley pulled back from a fist he'd just thrown at the boy to turn and smile at the three of the new comers. What terrified her more was the two older boys, both about Chad and Damien's age who came up to the group all smiling, too.

This just isn't fair, Amara thought. Why would it be? A voice questioned her. Damien roughly threw her into the dirt by the swings, and it brushed up and hit her in the face. She coughed and her eyes watered.

"Hello, neighbor," she heard Dudley said. "We'd just like to welcome you the neighborhood. You know my name already, this is Piers," he pointed out the bird looking boy, "Dave," the smaller of the two cronies, "and Robert," the larger cronie.

Damien and Chad walked up to the pack of teenage boys. "We'd like you to meet our friends here, too, sis," Chad said.

"Greg," said the dark, skinny tall haired boy. His hair was black like his glinting eyes.

"Rick," said the other who had blond hair, and was quite overweight himself.

"I don't suppose it would be ok if I left now," said Amara almost sarcastically, getting to her feet.

"That would be rude," said Rick.

"You wouldn't want to be rude, now would you?" Dave asked.

"Nope, I wouldn't dream of it," Amara said darkly. She wondered if she could outrun them. She figured she could take the larger of the group, but she wasn't sure she could outrun her brothers, for she had never been able to do so yet.

"Oh, and speaking of rudeness, this is my cousin Harry," Dudley said offhandidly.

"Sod off," he told Dudley, struggling against Robert's hold.

"Well, if that wasn't rude," said Chad who socked him in the face.

"Knock it off," Amara said before she realized it.

"That's what I was trying to do, sis," he said.

"Come here, we have a game we want you to play, if you be nice and play like we ask, well, it would be beneficial to you," Damien said, and Greg walked up to her and grabbed her by the collar, shoving her to face Harry beside Dudley.

"Now, you see, we were told that Harry was made of candy, and if you hit him, like a piñata, you know, that candy would shoot out his mouth, and we really want candy," Rick said.

"You don't need any," Amara said.

"Watch it," Rick said. "You have to be a good girl, too, or it won't count."

"Come on, get on with it, get the candy out of him," Greg said, shoving her a little closer to Robert and Harry.

Harry looked at her as though saying it was ok, and prepared to take the hit. She felt fear, and held her hand in a fist up to look at it, wondering whether she could do it, become like her brothers, like the bullies she had known her whole life, like her father. _No!_ fear shot through her. No.

"Come on, we know ya got in ya," said Chad.

"Do it," Damien angrily, upon which a chorus of voices agreed.

She balled her hand in a fist, swung her arm back, and swung hard, turning in a circle and punching Greg hard in the gut, who doubled over. _Self defense,_ she smirked. A great commotion started. Dudley, Piers and Dave came at her from her right, and Damien, Chad, and Rick came at her from her left. Deciding it would be much easier to take on Dudley's group, she swung hard, and forced herself in the center of them, and out of reach of her brother's. She threw her whole body toward Dudley, hitting him hard in the chest, and surprising him enough to fall over. She felt pain from the fall, it had been like hitting a brick wall.

Up before Dudley could realize what hit him, she jumped at Dave, clawing his face, making his eyes water, than ducking down to grab a leg literally right from under him, and he fell on top of a rising Dudley. Piers backed away, afraid of the same treatment. However, she couldn't fight Rick, who hit her hard in the head from behind, and Damien and Chad were well aware of her tactics, and had her still and caught in Rick's embrace, who had been taught how to hold her properly so that she couldn't swing back and kick him or some other means escape tactics.

Dudley and Dave rose up and began hitting her in the stomach and face for a few minutes before Chad and Damien told them to hold up.

"It's Harry's turn," Damien said.

Dudley looked at him uncertainly, and then told Robert to release Harry. Harry was forced to face Amara. She saw him look at her, and there was no uncertainness in it, he wasn't about to hit her. He just stood there and did nothing.

Dudley hit Harry so hard it sent him flying. Harry, whom had obviously been accustomed to Dudley's gang picking on him, looked shocked. Amara realized he'd never been hit that hard before, and that Dudley was getting his tactics from her brothers. She felt a sickening feeling well up in her.

She struggled like a wild cat against Rick. "Let go of him! Stop it! Leave him alone! Stop! Let go of me!" she screamed.

She felt Rick losing his grip on her and took advantage of it, loosing her struggle, only to slide out of it a second later, like a Chinese finger trap. She ran at Dudley, jumping on his back and pulling at his hair, thus greatly angering and shocking Dudley and just about everyone else as well.

"Harry, run! Run!" she shouted.

He just stood there, very much having difficulty doing what she said. _Yes, he has to be noble,_ she thought exasperatedly, and at the same time liking him the more for it. The guys were enclosing on them both.

"Go, run!" she said.

Harry, not being able to bring himself to leave her like that, who had just saved him, ran quickly at Dudley and kicked his knees, making him buckle to the ground. He grabbed Amara's wrist and yelled, "Come on!"

They ran as quickly away as they could. Amara, who had much experience in running, realized Harry ran very fast. He was right with her the whole way, while most people would have been left in her dust.

Like Amara predicted, Dudley, Rick, Dave and Robert soon gave up on the chase. She didn't risk looking back, but she knew there were still three people heading after her, her brothers, and Greg.

Soon there was only one set of steps to be heard, and this greatly surprised Amara. "Come on, this way," Harry said, leading her to a very narrow space between one house and a garage. She was surprised she fit.

They struggled to fit themselves inside, getting right in the center, out of reach of Greg, who was, for all his lanky being, couldn't bring himself to get to Amara and Harry.

After he had left, they released their breaths that they hadn't realized they'd been holding.

"Thanks," Amara and Harry said at the same time. They smiled at each other in the relative darkness.

Amara knew that she'd saved Harry, but not herself. She would only get it worse when she got home. Luckily, Roy had a business trip he had to take that evening, lasting a day, and she wouldn't get it twice. Chad and Damien were used to getting their way without much resistance, and she'd never escaped them before. Her smile because of that was genuine, and she knew she wouldn't tell Harry this, so that he'd feel good about saving her as well.

"Well, I think I've had enough running to last a life time," Amara said.

"Me, too. I was wondering where you were at, you'd been gone a week and a half," Harry said.

"A week and a half!" Amara said, shocked.

"You didn't know?" Harry was confused.

Amara hadn't realized she'd been under so long. She had only been conscious for the last three days. "Um…sorry, I didn't think it had been that long," she said lamely.

"Right," Harry said and half laughed, relieved over their escape.

Amara couldn't help but smile and laugh over their victory, too. "I was beginning to think they shipped you off to some country as a slave," Harry said.

"With all the money the save on a maid, no way," Amara joked. "So how's your labor going? Is your time almost up?" she asked.

"I got a life sentence," Harry said.

"I hope not," Amara said, trying not to picture being forced to live with Roy until he died. She shivered.

"Cold?" he asked. It was evening, but none the less humid. They both got their way out of the crevice.

"No, just trying to have to picture living with Dudley for an entire life," she said.

Harry laughed. "I better get going, I bet Dudley's already back now, and I'm always grounded if I'm not home before or with him."

"Yeah, I'm not even supposed to leave the house," Amara said.

"Bye," Harry said.

"Later,' Amara said.

On the way home Amara met Damien and Chad approaching their house from the opposite direction. The anger and outrage on Chad's face, and the cold loathing on Damien's face were undeniable. She was in for it. Thinking back to Harry she realized something that made her pulse quicken, but it was a good thing. For the first time in her life, she had a friend. She looked back to Damien and Chad, knowing what was in store once they entered the house. She shrugged inwardly, two angry brothers was worth one friend any day. She entered the house with a smile.


	5. Departure and Arrival

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rich. If I were rich I'd have genius scientist build a time machine, travel back in time and force Monty Python to make twice the amount of shows they did, because there can never be too much Monty Python (which I don't own either). Then I'd have them do a top secret, special ending to Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and I would be the only one to know. Since, none of this has happened, it appears as though I don't own Harry Potter. 

**Author's Notes:** Thanks so much to my reviewers. If you do read, please review, input is always great, and it's always exciting to get an email notifying me of a new review! Thanks!

**Chapter Five**

**Departure and Arrival**

Amara woke the next day in incredible pain, but mostly she was just in shock. The night before had been different from any other night she'd ever had in her memory. Something had changed, a power had shifted, and her fear of Damien went without saying, but was now as just as great as the one Roy inspired in her.

A memory flashed before her mind.

"Please," she whispered, tears in her eyes, the pain was too much, she begged him to stop.

"Damien, maybe we should stop, she looks like she's learned her lesson," Chad said from beyond her vision.

She'd never heard anyone stand up for her, and more tears fell from her face. It would have been a defining moment, if she wasn't in so much pain and could appreciate it. She knew how horrible she must look for him to say that.

Damien looked outraged, his face turned to look at his brother's. "You think she's had enough!" he screamed.

Chad's footstep back could be heard by Amara, as Damien stepped over her to face Chad. Amara couldn't will herself to turn and look. She heard a sickening crack and then a thump.

"What the hell!" Chad asked confused.

"Don't disagree with me, brother, or you're just as bad as _she_ is, got it?" Damien said, more calmly.

"What the fuck is up with you man?" Chad asked in response.

The next few seconds Amara heard them fighting, kicking, hitting, screaming at each other. Then she heard a loud quick crack, and a strangled cry.

"Got it?" Damien asked coldly.

"Yes," Chad said quietly.

Damien walked back over to Amara, whose eyes were wide open in fear and confusion. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard, what she knew had just happened. He _beat _his brother. He _beat_ his brother, repeated over and over in her head. Fear escalated then, not even Roy had laid a hand on his sons, but Damien was not only ready, but willing to cross that line.

"Up," Damien said.

In too much shock to say something, she stood up. Her vision was a little clearer after the break and the shock, and Chad came up beside her. She turned to look at him, horror on her face. She saw that his nose was bleeding and broken, and his shirt was torn where Damien had taken the whip to his chest.

"Sorry," was all Amara could choke out.

She couldn't figure out all the emotions and thoughts coming from her. If you'd asked her the day before, she would have been perfectly fine with Chad being beaten to a bloody pulp. Hell, he deserved it, didn't he? But there was something about seeing it that told her it wasn't ok, and he had stood up for her. Confusion and fear overwhelmed her.

Amara looked at herself, she realized that her wounds couldn't have waited until morning, and Amber had already attended to them. Her chest and back were bandaged again, and she was wearing different clothes than she had been from the night before.

As the pain in her back subsided, or as much as it would, Amara tried the door. It was unlocked, so she knew that she was allowed out. Roy wasn't back yet, so there was no one to test her for the fun of it, and she made her way upstairs. When she got up there, she could smell breakfast already being made, which, of course, was her chore. She had overslept. She knew she'd be berated for it later, but right now, she couldn't manage to care.

"Sit," said Amber promptly, hearing the door shut behind Amara.

Amara went to the table and noticed Damien already sitting down. She sat across from him, not wanting to exist in the same world as him. It was difficult to say the least. She was used to having nights with Roy then sitting and eating with him, but this was completely different. She realized she was staring when he smiled, that insane glint in his eye. _He must have slept like a baby._ She thought. _Bastard._

"Good morning Amara," he said, his voice back to it's usual low, calm tones.

"Good morning, sir," she said so quietly that he barely heard her.

"No need for such formalities now, girl, later," Damien said.

She knew this would be another means of toying with her. She'd never be sure she said the right thing. "Ok."

"Going to see your friend?" Damien asked, Amber serving them breakfast, her eyes going wide in surprise that Amara had any such thing.

"No," she said a little to quickly and loudly.

He smirked, obviously pleased with himself. She felt disgusted, she belonged to him as well now. She was Roy and Damien's obedient little puppy. She felt sick, but was too hungry to care as she ate the food slowly, wishing to inhale it all at once.

"So, honey, are you planning to go camping with your friends?" Amber asked sweetly. It made Amara sick.

"Yes," Damien said.

"Do you have your stuff packed?" Amber asked.

"Yes, mom," Damien said.

"Good, then we can leave right away," Amber said.

Amara knew it wasn't her place to ask what they were talking about. She missed a lot when she had to recover often, but Damien going away, no matter for how short an amount of time, had to be a good thing. Damien looked at her.

"Is Amara coming?" he asked.

_Please no._ She didn't want to spend more time with him than she had to. "Why?" Amber asked, suspiciously.

"Just thought my sister would like to see me off is all," Damien said.

"I suppose that could be arranged, go get yourself cleaned up girl, I'll worry about the dishes," Amber said. Amara nodded obediently.

Amara made her way up the stairs, and into the bathroom. After taking a shower, she covered up the bruises again, an all too familiar process. She left the bathroom to come face to face with Chad.

It was an awkward silence at best. Amara noticed his nose was bruised and swollen, and his breathing was a little awkward. It was awhile before either of them could look the other in the eye. She saw pain there, and something else that was hard for her to put her thumb on. Realization, that's what it was, he finally saw what they did to her. He realized it hurt, that it was wrong. His posture was slumped and he looked miserable.

"Um, hi," Amara finally broke the unbearable silence.

"Hello, Amara," he said.

Silence again. "Are you ok?" Amara asked.

He softly and sadly half-smiled. "I should be asking that of you."

Once again there was silence. "I'm ok, it could've been worse."

There was more pain in his eyes, and Amara couldn't take it any longer.

"I'm sorry," they said simultaneously.

"For everything," Chad continued. "I didn't know…I didn't see…I didn't realize…I was a prat."

"Yeah, you were," Amara smiled. Chad had never really beat her that hard, but it wasn't as though he hadn't caused her any pain, either. "Thank you, for last night."

He snorted. "I didn't do anything, I just stood there, I'm sorry."

Then he did something unexpected, he hugged her. It was the first hug Amara had experienced. She was shocked and overwhelmed at the same time. He held her softly, trying not to cause her back to flame up.

"I should have done something," Chad said.

"You couldn't," Amara said, her voice caught up.

This was a different Chad, one she hoped would stay. She hoped he wasn't like his brother and father, just messing with her. She wasn't sure she could handle that after what had happened.

"I don't mean last night, I mean all the times. I should have said something, or at least not been them. I should have stopped the school bullies, that's something I could've done, at least. I'm sorry," Chad said.

_I'm sorry_, repeated in her head, it was the first time she'd ever heard someone say that to her seriously, she smiled despite herself.

"Well, Damien…uh, wants me to see him off, I'll see you later," Amara said, still stunned at the events that had just taken place.

"Bye," he said.

Amara made her way downstairs, and back down to Damien who was smiling his evil smile at her. There were full and heavy bags on the floor.

"Amara, get over and carry these bags to the car," her 'mother's' curt voice cut through the silence, as she made her way into the room, and opened the door.

Struggling to lift the bags (either of which could be said was at least her size), she made her way to the door that Amber had already left from. Damien grabbed the door, smiling his predator-like smile. "Let me get this for you."

Amara didn't trust Damien behind her, but she had no choice, and went out the door.

"I'll be back soon, Chad," Damien called. "Don't forget what I told you!" He then followed Amara out, shutting the door behind him.

Damien sat beside Amara in the backseat of the car after she had loaded the bags in the trunk. His smile and casual glances at her, unnerving her. She tried to not let him get to her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

In the car, Amber confirmed with Damien all the arrangements. Damien and Greg, as well as Greg's father, were to take the train to meet up with Greg's uncle and cousin for a two week camping trip. Everything was set. Amara would be relieved when Damien left. A whole two weeks free of Damien! And Roy had been called away again for another week!

When they reached the train station, Damien unloaded his bags (for appearance reasons), and hugged Amber. He gave Amara a one armed hug, as he held one of his bags, and said, "Now, be a good girl, I'll be back in two weeks!"

Needless to say, Amara was relieved to see him get on the train and leave. She was surprised that there was no real secret cruelty that had been sprung on her during the trip.

The next week went all too quickly. Amara, despite what Damien had taught her, secretly met with Harry in the afternoon after they had finished their chores, with Chad's help. Harry and Amara escaped Dudley's gang so often, that it became a sort of game to tick them off and then irritate them further by escaping their clutches. It was, in short, the best week of Amara's life.

Of course, Roy came back after that, and she could no longer see Harry as much. Roy's cruelty was ever present, occurring every other night or so, but not the dangerous point it had been right after the move. They couldn't risk that, and he was fairly happy, his business trip being successful.

But then Harry disappeared, his whole family had gone, and Damien came back, and things were back to normal. Amara spent most of her spare time checking out the window to see if they ever came back.

On a rainy afternoon, Amara sat at the front window, peering out it. Amber was sleeping, Damien and Chad were at Rick's house, and there was still a half hour till Roy got off work. That was the one good thing about Roy's job, despite often moving from place to place, Roy was most often found at work, often working late into the evening. Today, he was due home on time, or he would have called Amber a half hour ago, and there had been no call.

As Amara sat calmly, enjoying the pitter patter of rain, and wondering where Harry had gotten off to, as well as hoping he was ok, a stranger's car appeared and parked in the Dursley's empty drive. Peering closer, Amara debated with herself whether she should allow her curiosity to get the better of her, and for her to go across and greet the stranger, and ask for news of Harry, or whether she should stay put. After all, they may be a friend of the Dursleys, and not care for Harry at all. Or it could be a burglar…though, perhaps, not a very good one, to park and scout the house that way. If Roy came home and caught her or Amber woke up, she would be punished for being nosy, and then her clothes would get wet, and they'd know…

No, Amara thought, it would be better for her to just peer out. She watched the stranger, and imagined the sound of the car shutting off, the click of it opening, and the firm sound of it shutting. The stranger was wearing a tan overcoat, and holding a tan umbrella. It appeared as though it were a woman, though the overcoat was not a very distinguishing feature, the long, dark brown hair of a woman flowed down her back.

She appeared lost, as she looked back and forth from a piece of paper in her hand to 4 Privet Drive. Turning, she looked directly at Amara's house, her face looking as though she were thinking. Seeming to decide it was the right move, she moved certainly toward 5 Privet Drive, sticking the letter back into one of the many hidden coat pockets.

Amara pried herself from the mirror and walked away, just in case she was seen. It was probably someone from Roy's office, and she certainly didn't want it to appear that she was doing anything she shouldn't be, after all, the slightest mention could spell disaster for her. She heard a firm knock on the door, and Amara went to answer it.

Opening the door, Amara was greeted with the site of a woman, whom she considered to be quite good looking. She also looked kind, but also important. She made Amara want to smile, as the woman smiled and asked, "May I come in?"

Wondering whether, if the worse could come, if it was better for her to leave the stranger outside, so as to not appear to be allowing stranger's entrance, or to invite them in, looking bad at leaving guests in the rain, she allowed her in. It was raining, and either way, Amara could get in trouble.The stranger closed her umbrella and propped it on the wall so that the wet part rested out of the way on the few stone tiles before the door.

"Thank you, I'm Amanda Webb, Miss Webb, is this the Andrews residence?" she asked.

Amara moved around her to shut the door, and then replied, "Yes."

"Are you Amara?"

Amara's heart sped up. She didn't know what an official looking woman such as the woman in front of her could mean. Of course, she looked nice enough, but she was coming _here_ to ask for _her_. Was it possible someone had found out about Roy? If so, was she to be punished for allowing her in? Amara tried to get her head thinking straight before replying quietly, "Yeah, that's me."

"Well, I have some very important things to discuss with you and your family," Miss Webb said.

"Hello?" said Amber, from the background, as though on key. "I'm Amara's mother, is there something wrong?"

"Oh, well, no, nothing wrong at all, but I have some very, what may be, shocking news, and I would like to discuss it with you and Amara, is your husband home?" Miss Webb said.

"He should be home any minute," Amber said. "Would you like to sit down?" Amber indicated to the a set of couches facing one another.

"Yes, thank you," Miss Webb said, taking the couch furthest from the door, as Amber sat down on the left side of the other, motioning for Amara to sit beside her, in the middle.

At that moment, the door opened, and Roy entered, shutting his umbrella and putting it beside where Amanda had put hers.

"You must be Mr. Andrews," Miss Webb said standing, as Roy seemed to look at her curiously, making his way over the couch.

"Yes, I am," he said, taking Miss Webb's offered hand.

"Is Amara in any trouble?" he asked.

"No, but perhaps you'd like to sit," said Miss Webb and they sat together. "I am here to give you some news, this may be shocking, so are you ready to hear it?"

They took a moment before nodding. Amara could feel herself getting warm. She was very worried about what all this was about, but it didn't appear as though Roy or Amber were in any trouble with Miss Webb, so that could only mean Amara had done something wrong. She felt very self conscious and nervous sitting next to Roy.

"Well, it appears as though Amara is a witch."

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**Author's Notes: **I've finally ended the slow progression toward the inevitable! Please tell me if you liked the first four chapters (as to whether they were to long and boring). It's finally starting. I was feeling bad for Amara (doesn't everybody?) and it reflected in the writing, bringing an aspect (Chad) into it long before I thought I would, and in a different way, but I like it, once again. Excuse any plot lines that seem off in this chapter or grammar mistakes, seeing as I finished the read through of this late at night and on sleeping pills. Thanks for reading. Please review, you know you want to!


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